Evermind
by ThereCanOnlyBe1
Summary: Following the account of the century after the death of Aragorn, King of Gondor. Looking into the life of the King of Rohan and his family as they struggle through the unthinkable.
1. Chapter 1

**_Preface:_**

_Edoras in the year 239 of the Fourth Age was not much different from the time of Èomer King. Nearly 116 years after the death of Elessar, Gondor and Rohan have only strengthened their alliances and close kinship._

_The peoples of Rohan have kept prosperous during the reign of King Elfwine (63 F.A-82 F.A) and continuing on into the rule of his third son Eòfan I, who in turn left the kingdom to grow and flourish during his rule (82 F.A-145 F.A). After the death of the beloved King, his only son Eámon came into rule. During his time, the Wild Men attacks had almost come to a halt, and the savages were driven South of Gondor into Harad. It wasn't until the death of the King (182 F.A) that Corsairs from Umbar began to raid and waste their lands again-who had begun to gather strength once more when the news of the death of Elessar had reached their ears-joining with Haradrim-Wild Men forces to try and destroy the strong blood-line of Èomer. Eòfan I had led an excursion to drive out the main company of Haradrim-Corsair in the Eastfold when his entire band was obliterated, leaving the Kingdom of invaded Rohan to his, then 16-year-old son, Edmìr in the year 192 F.A._

_King Edmìr the Young had proven himself just as strong as his forefathers, and had driven the Haradrim-Wild Men armies out of both Rohan and Gondor within a matter of two years. Eventually, in 201 F.A, Edmìr obliterated an entire battalion of Corsairs, pushing them back to Umbar. There they remained in the quiet. In the years afterwards, he took the Lady Thrissen of Belfalas as his bride in the year 209 F.A. Together, they bore Prince Eòfan II in the winter of 211 F.A, and Princess Triswyn during the spring of 221 F.A; living in a time of peace and prosperity…_

**Chapter 1**

Edmìr, son of Eámon, Lord of the Riddermark and King of Rohan sat on his large wooden throne. His meaty hands thumped the wooden horses-serving as arm rests-in his boredom. He stroked his golden beard, which was cleanly shaven and trimmed.

Five of his close advisors surrounded both of the sides of the throne, droning about expenses and restoration of a village that accidentally burned down somewhere in the Westfold. He only pretended to listen, already anticipating the outcome of such an event. He pulled slightly at his dark under-tunic; the heat in Meduseld was constricting, or was it just him? His bronzed crown felt heavy, and the horses that were melded into it seemed to come to life in his head, pounding their hooves like a heavy thunderstorm. But he never revealed his discomfort.

The King's dark evergreen eyes stared intently at the door; an underlying concern wreathed his pupils, but it was disguised by his unusually kind gaze. His ears tuned in, trying to listen to the sound of the outside, which waited beyond the large wooden doors of the Golden Hall.

Finally, Edmìr's ear twitched with the sound of light footsteps going up stone stairs, followed by two lighter steps, and the heavy thud of leather boots. The King sat up, the first movement he'd made in over an hour. This had caught the attention of his personal guard, and they stood at attention, grabbing the hilts of their swords.

"My Lord?" One of his councilman-Trinian, the Queen's brother-turned to the King.

Edmìr put his large fore-finger to his pale lips, and the hall was silent.

After a long moment of white noise, the large wooden doors opened slowly. Two guards came forth, and behind then a tall woman in deep blue robes-lined with silver and lighter tones of blue-strode forth, tugging a small child alongside her. Both mother and child had dark red-orange hair that shimmered in the torchlight.

Queen Thrissen brought along an air of anger with her as she walked into the hall, her temper had obviously been flared way before she entered, and her bright blue eyes pierced the hearts of the councilmen so that they cringed, and they could not meet her gaze.

Their son, Eòfan, stood close behind his mother, bearing a smug look towards his sister, trying not to laugh at her utter ridiculousness. His blond hair went to his shoulder, shining in the light like Golden Fleece. Even at the age of fifteen, he had the bearings of a great warrior and slight stubble had begun to grow around his chin.

Edmìr was relieved to see his daughter, even if she was the victim of her mother's temper. The Princess had been missing for hours, and the King was just happy to see she was safe. Edmìr stood up to his full height, a full foot above the rest, just as his forefathers before him.

He tried not to smile as he walked to his family, noticing his daughter's disheveled hair tangling around her head like a nest, and her dirt ridden face, covering her light freckles and shy smile. Her tiny thumb was placed firmly in her mouth, and she stared up at her father as he came up to her mother.

"And what was our little Princess doing out of bed?" He knelt down, still taller than his five-year-old daughter as he went on his knees. His kind eyes softened when she stared at him with equally green eyes, shrugging as her answer to his question.

Queen Thrissen shot at her husband, "She was outside the wall, again."

Offsetting his wife's flaring temper, Edmìr looked upon his daughter kindly, "Triswyn, you should know that you should not go anywhere without your mother."

The Princess nodded, still sucking on her thumb.

"She was playing amongst the graves, Edmìr." Thrissen scolded, "And when I asked why, she told me she wanted to see the Man again."

Edmìr was unnerved, but didn't show it, he cleared his throat and looked at Triswyn, "Now, Princess, what has Mother said about strangers?"

His daughter took her thumb out of her mouth, "That they must befriend you before they befriend me." Triswyn said quietly.

"Aye," Edmìr nodded, "So why did you disobey?"

Triswyn put her thumb back in her mouth and shrugged.

Thrissen sighed furiously, "This is the fourth time this past week, Edmìr." She pointed out.

"I'm aware." Edmìr said.

He then looked at his son, "Eòfan, lad. Take your sister to her room, and make sure she stays in bed." He said gently.

"Yes, Papa." Eòfan bowed, and then took his sister's tiny hand.

Triswyn took her thumb out of her mouth as they walked, "Eòfan," She stared, "Tell me the story about the Hobbits again."

Their voices echoed lightly and inaudibly as they left the hall.

Thrissen stared at her husband, eyes still fiery with anger. But Edmìr spoke before she did, "My, love." He stood up and took her delicate shoulders, admiring her beautiful flushed face, and rosy cheeks, "Go to our chambers and run yourself a bath. I won't be long."

His Queen sighed, staring at her husband with her deep blue eyes, and then she turned around and didn't speak another word as she walked away from the hall, leaving a path of anger and frustration in her wake.

A few hours later, once all of the affairs in the Westfold were arranged, Edmìr retired quietly to his chambers.

Thrissen sat on their bed, weaving her fingers in her long red hair. Her plump pink lips were set in a firm line and she avoided her husband's gaze.

"It seems I have neglected to ask you of your day." Edmìr brought his maroon velvet tunic over his head, leaving just the black under tunic. He sat before his wife's covered feet and looked upon her with a loving gaze.

The Queen finally looked at her husband, instantly softened by his tender tone, and the feel of his surprisingly gentle hands under the covers as they rubbed her thin legs. She began to reveal a rare smile, one she only ever let Edmìr see.

"There's my lovely Thriss." Edmìr said gently, "Now, tell me of the events that transpired with our little rebel today."

He stood up to change into his night clothes, listening intently to his wife as she ranted.

"I just don't know what to think any more about her," Thrissen began, still brushing her hair with her fingers, "This isn't normal for a child to want to explore tombs. And the fact that she tells me every time I catch her-which probably doesn't amount to the actual number of times she's been out there-she tells me of a man that stands by one of the graves, just standing. And she feels compelled to help him. Her words not mine." She sighed for the millionth time that day.

"Well," Edmìr lay down beside Thrissen, "It seems to me that she just has a child's curiosity, and imagination, at that. A child's curiosity is an untamable thing, best let it flourish now then later." He climbed under the covers, "Eventually, she'll grow out of it, and become the most beautiful and charming Princess in all of Middle Earth."

"I do hope you're right." Thrissen looked at her husband with worried eyes, "I'm afraid she'll turn out like you."

"Is that so?" Edmìr asked, raising his brow.

"Oh indeed." Thrissen lay herself down as if to sleep.

Edmìr nodded slowly, and then swiftly burrowed under the blankets to tickle his wife's stomach with his lips.

"Edmìr!" Thrissen giggled uncontrollably.

He climbed on top of her, "If she turns out like me, then we'll at least know she'll make her husband a happy man." He bent to kiss his wife's neck.

"You are a dirty man Edmìr, Eámon's son." Thrissen chuckled, "A dirty man indeed."

"Eòfan," Little Princess Triswyn yawned, still trying to stay up to listen to her brother tell her stories, "Tell me again about the dwarves in Erebor. And how Smaug's scales glistened like they themselves were made of fire and gold." She pulled the covers close to her chest, looking up at her older brother.

Eòfan chuckled, "Tris, you already know that one from the first word to the last." He kissed her cheek, "Now it's time for bed, before mother kills us both."

"She won't." Triswyn argued, sitting up and jumping on her brother's back, "I'll fight her off." Then she got on all fours and jumped on the floor, bearing her pearly white teeth, "I'm a Warg, I'll protect you, Eòfan." Then she growled.

Eòfan burst out laughing, his sister was a trouble-maker, but her cute looks always softened every punishment given. Then he shook his head and picked her up. He set her gently under her blankets, embroidered in red horses running across a black field.

"Now, Tris," Eòfan brushed her hair out of her newly washed face, "Go to sleep tonight, and I promise I will tell you about the Lady Galadriel."

Triswyn pouted, "That's a girly story."

Eòfan sighed, "Then I will tell you about Lady Èowyn. That you haven't heard before."

"What did she do?" Triswyn's curiosity piqued.

"That's for tomorrow, dear sister." Eòfan smiled gently. His face was full of the gentleness that his father held.

Triswyn yawned again, and her evergreen eyes fluttered, "I suppose."

"Good." Eòfan kissed her forehead, "Now sleep, Triswyn. And dream of the bright green grasses of the Shire. I will be waiting for you at the river, and we'll go to the sea to watch the last of the elves go out to the Undying Lands."

The Princess only nodded, and drifted into a peaceful sleep, dreaming exactly what her brother had told her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Small petals of Simbelmynë floated in the summer breeze around Edoras. The sea of grass waved around the grave mounds of the Kings of Rohan. Curling her fingers in the soft green grass atop the tomb of King Èomer Èadig, Princess Triswyn smiled with contentment. The sun was just coming up, and started burning her already golden skin delightfully. She lay on her back with her eyes closed; red hair flying every which way in the morning breeze. The dew stuck to her skin, sticky and cold; and the aroma of flower and grass encased her.

Edoras loomed behind her as she tangled with the grass. She'd been there since the wee hours of the morning, hoping to see Him again.

Triswyn set her slender hands over her stomach. Her fingers fumbled with the leather strips that tied her tawny vest together, which was set over a cream colored V-neck blouse. The tightness of the vest had accentuated her newly developed curves and bosom. She'd stolen a pair of light trousers from her brother, specifically for her outdoor adventures.

A light yellow butterfly set itself on the Princess' nose. Triswyn opened her eyes, crossing them to focus on the little creature. She smiled broadly behind creamy pink lips, and her evergreen eyes danced as they followed the butterfly when it took flight once more.

Triswyn was about to close her eyes again, when she suddenly heard the crow of a rooster. She shot up, running as fast as she could to the wall around Edoras.

"Damnation." She muttered.

Going around to the far side, which was seated right behind the hill of Meduseld, Triswyn jumped onto the wall. She set her slipper-covered feet in small divots she'd carved into the side over the years, and she climbed swiftly and quietly.

When she reached the top, she rested for a moment, exhaling heavily.

"Holy love of the Mearas." She sighed deeply, letting her breath catch up with her.

Then Triswyn swung her leg over the top of the wall, settling on a very thin ledge. After swinging the other leg over and balancing expertly, Triswyn extended her left foot down. She became level once more when she lowered onto another ledge. Slowly scaling down, Triswyn was able to jump onto the ground.

She steadied herself, and then took off ascending the hill to Meduseld. About halfway up, Triswyn heard the noise she was dreading; her mother.

"Triswyn!"

Triswyn's eyes widened, and she ran even faster. When she reached the top, she shimmied along the bottom part of the building to the left side. Adeptly, she climbed along the walls of the home, and she found the opened part of the window she'd originally climbed out of. Pulling herself up, Triswyn lost her balance and fell through the window and landed on her bum. Ungracefully, she dusted herself off, jumped up, and ran down the hallway towards the bed chambers.

Only two rooms were seated in the back hallway, Triswyn's room on the left, and Eòfan's room on the right. The Prince had been away on business in Southern Ithilien, which was part of the reason Triswyn knew her mother would be looking for her so early in the morning. Eòfan was returning, and not just with the Rohirrim…

Triswyn shut her door quickly, then turned around to face her room. Her eyes darkened with the thought of who her brother was bringing home with him: Prince Arandír of Ithilien. His name rolled around in her brain like a deathly poison. Just the thought of the sleazy Prince made Triswyn want to hit something. She never trusted him, ever. It seemed that she was the only one in the family of the King that saw Arandír for who he was; a right royal prick with a silver tongue.

Suddenly remembering her tempest mother; Triswyn bolted across her room like lightning, right to her wardrobe. Looking through different clothes and picking grass out of her hair at the same time, Triswyn listened intently for any footsteps coming down the hallway. She shuffled through her house dresses and skirts, picking out a cream colored long skirt. Quickly, she swapped her pant-wear for the skirt, tucking the top of it under her vest.

She ran over to her wooden vanity and took her horse-hair brush, trying her best to detangle her thick and frizzy red hair. Her scalp felt raw, and hurt from the intense brushing she was doing, but at the sound of quick footsteps finally coming down the hallway, Triswyn didn't care.

A Simbelmynë flower fell from her right as the door to her room swung open, revealing a livid Queen Thrissen. Triswyn stood at attention, covering the flower with her foot.

"Godne mergen, modor." She said innocently.

Thrissen looked at her daughter suspiciously, her red face slowly returning to its normal snow pale complexion, "I came here earlier and you weren't here." She stated, "Where were you?"

Triswyn's stomach dropped, quickly, she devised a lie, "I thought I heard something."

Her mother looked at her hard, "Something?"

"Giese." Triswyn nodded.

"And exactly what is that 'something'?" Thrissen asked, visibly not amused.

Triswyn looked at her brush, pulling at the little red strands that had been pulled into it, "I'm not quite sure…so I went outside to look for where it was…"

"Whatever, Triswyn." Thrissen interrupted her daughter, holding her hand to her forehead, "I'm tired of your excuses for today, just please be down in the Hall, we have guests today to prepare for. I would very much appreciate it if you didn't look like..." She looked at her unkempt daughter, "Like a ruffian." And she turned and left without closing the door; a sigh was audible from the Queen as she went down the hallway.

Triswyn frowned, and her eyes darkened, her mother's words echoing in her head as she sadly pulled her hair back with a leather strip.

Queen Thrissen stood in the center of Meduseld, barking orders at anyone and everyone who happened to walk by her at any point in time. Her hair was every which way, and stress lined her seemingly perfect face. Dark circles found themselves under her bright blue eyes, and the Queen huffed in frustration when the group she had assembled in order to play music for Eòfan's return hadn't arrived yet. Triswyn arrived in time for the Queen to explode on one poor servant girl who only had just walked by with the wrong color of table cloth.

Triswyn stood wide eyed, trying to avoid her mother at all costs. She wrung her hands with her skirt in nervousness. For the next few hours, her mother was going to be more tyrannical than she already was, and Triswyn wanted nothing to do with it.

"Princess?"

Triswyn looked to her left, and noticed another servant, looking sheepish as he went to address his Lady. He was holding a parchment, presumably a checklist. Triswyn smiled at him warmly, and took the parchment.

It was a simple checklist of the beginning course of meal that the Queen wanted specific for the Prince's return, only a few items were missing.

Triswyn looked at the servant again, "Is it Féold?" She inquired of the servant's name.

"Yes, my Lady." He said shyly, averting his dark eyes from the Princess' gaze.

Triswyn pointed her slender finger to an item on the list, "Just substitute it for butter and this for goat. It really doesn't make a difference, my mother won't care."

At the same time, they both heard the Queen screech over broken candles. Triswyn flinched at the banshee-like noise, then shook her head as she handed the list over to Féold.

"Trust me on this one." She winked, then smiled again.

"Yes, my Lady." Féold took the list and shuffled away before the Queen could see him.

"Triswyn!" The Queen screamed for her daughter.

"Coming, mother." Triswyn rolled her eyes.

The Princess walked over to her mother, looking at a mess of broken chandelier candles and spilt mead. Taking a deep breath, Triswyn grabbed her mother by her shoulders-which were incredibly tight with stress-and brought her over to sit down. Triswyn looked to a maid and told her to get some water for her mother, and the Princess walked over to the large mess that had been created.

"Alright," She sighed, "You," She pointed to a couple of idle servants, "I want all of these candles picked up, wiped off, and brought back down to the wax room, bring back up the ones that are more cream colored, they'll do for now." Triswyn ordered, "I want all of this wasted mead cleaned up right now, and I want the floors to be pristine by the end of this hour. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Princess." The workers chorused, setting right to work.

"Ic ðoncie ðe." Triswyn smiled sweetly.

She turned around to her mother, who was sipping on her water, eyeing the floor with strained eyes, which were lined with red from lack of sleep. Triswyn felt a small amount of pity for the Queen. She walked over to her mother, kneeling down to look Thrissen in the eye.

"Georne." Triswyn said smartly.

"It's going to be ruined." Thrissen said wildly, "Everything for my baby boy is ruined." She pointed around the already beautifully adorned room, "ðæt nis god genog."

"Modor." Triswyn tried to console her mother.

"Your father will be so upset." Thrissen started to tear up.

"No he won't." Triswyn rolled her eyes at her mother's ridiculousness, "Come on," She picked her mother up, pulling her onto her feet. "Let's just start by fixing that mess of a hair you created."

*Translations: In order of appearance

-Good morning, mother

-Yes

-Thank you

-You're welcome

-That is not good enough


End file.
